


International Exchange

by mydeira, Sadbhyl



Series: Responsible Adults (aka, The Menageaverse) [65]
Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer
Genre: Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-11
Updated: 2013-04-11
Packaged: 2017-12-08 04:34:14
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,959
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/757098
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mydeira/pseuds/mydeira, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sadbhyl/pseuds/Sadbhyl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Rupert gets homesick, but gets more than he expected when he calls home.</p>
            </blockquote>





	International Exchange

**Author's Note:**

> Originally published June 30, 2005
> 
> More in the Ménageaverse. Still during the long summer between S6 and 7.

Giles sat behind his desk in the heavy leather chair that had always been his father’s, surrounded by the detritus of three generations of Watchers. The blanket of night enclosed the house, broken only by the small lamp in front of him and the light seeping under the door from the hallway. Willow had gone to bed hours before, exhausted from her rigorous training, leaving him to work on his research. But he could find no comfort in his books tonight.

He was lonely.

Willow’s companionship notwithstanding, he felt isolated here. All his energies were focused on getting her through this crisis, leaving him no time for so much as an evening at the pub. Not that that would have helped much.

He missed his lovers. It was hard to fathom that they had actually been together for so long. But in that time, Giles had grown accustomed to their constant presence, to something as simple as adult conversation, to the physical contact that kept him grounded and made him feel connected. He and Willow had been here in Westbury for two and a half months, in which time he had only made it home once for a long weekend that was woefully too short. Joyce and Ethan both had been very attentive, but there was no fighting jetlag, so he had spent half the time sleeping, just grateful to be in their arms.

He glanced at the small clock on the desk that he had set to Pacific Daylight Time. Two forty-seven in the afternoon. He could almost feel the late afternoon sun warming his bones, smell the baked summer earth that had been part of his life for the last six years. On impulse, he picked up the phone. It was too early to actually expect an answer, but even the sound of Joyce’s voice on the answering machine would be enough to tide him through the night.

Giles dialed in the long, familiar string of digits, then leaned forward to rest his elbows on the desk as he waited for the international call to connect. A series of clicks echoed down the line before the phone on the other end began ringing. The tinny jangle reverberated in his ear a half dozen times without interruption, and he had just resigned himself to talking to the machine when the ring was interrupted by the sound of the handset being fumbled before Joyce’s breathless voice sounded on the line. “Hello?”

Just the sound of her voice calmed something within him. “Hello, Joyce.”

“Rupert!” He could hear her smile. “It’s so good to hear your voice! But you don’t normally call until Friday. Is everything alright?”

“It’s fine. I just . . . well, to be truthful, I was feeling a bit homesick.”

“Stop that,” she murmured to someone on her end of the phone, and Giles thought he heard a slapping sound. “I’m sorry you’re feeling down,” she consoled, coming back on the line. “If it makes you feel any better, we miss you, too. I said stop!” This last was again directed not to him but to someone with her, and accompanied by a wicked giggle.

He couldn’t help chuckling himself. “I take it you aren’t alone?”

“I’m going to be, if someone doesn’t keep his grabby hands to himself for a minute!” Her words, both playful and stern, were intended for both sides of the Atlantic.

“Taking a chance, aren’t you?” He sank back into the leather chair, enjoying the image of playful foreplay in the middle of the afternoon.

“The girls have all gone to the beach for the day, so we thought we’d make the most—hey!” Her words were interrupted as her companion took the phone out of her hand.

“Your timing could be better, mate,” Ethan’s voice growled down the line. “I was just getting to the best parts.”

“You don’t really think I’m going to feel bad for you, do you?” He paused for a moment, hearing Joyce’s soft protests as Ethan continued his seduction without shame. “What’s she wearing?”

“Hmm?” Giles’ words seemed to distract Ethan from his assault.

“I presume you’ve dispensed with her clothing already. What’s she wearing?”

“The peach. With the lace around the edges.”

Giles closed his eyes and pictured her in the familiar lingerie. “Love that on her.”

“Mmm. Me, I love taking it off her.” Giles thought he heard Joyce gasp.

“Well, there is that.”

“Look, mate, good as it is to talk to you, why don’t you let us call you back in an hour or so. We’re a little distracted . . .”

“Don’t,” Giles interrupted him, suddenly desperate not to lose contact. “Don’t hang up. She’s got a speakerphone there, doesn’t she?”

Ethan hesitated as though checking. “Yeah, she does.”

“Use it.”

Ethan chuckled wickedly. “Hang on a tic.” The phone fumbled again and then with a loud click, the sound became more hollow. “Still there?”

“I’m here,” Giles confirmed. “Joyce?”

“Yes, I’m here.” Even through the static of the speaker and the long distance connection, he could hear the breathless quality her voice had when she was aroused.

“This is a new kink for you,” Ethan said at the same time Joyce gasped from something he had done.

“If I can’t watch . . .” he left the rest implied. “Make her scream, Ethan. I want to hear you.”

“My pleasure,” his partner growled in response. “And hers.”

Joyce squealed, and Giles heard the faint squeak of bedsprings, so he assumed Ethan had picked her up and deposited her in the middle of the mattress. She sighed and then a moment later moaned softly. He could think of any number of possible causes for her response, but he didn’t want to have to imagine. When she gave a muffled whimper, he could stand it no longer. “What is he doing, Joyce?”

She just gasped a breathless cry.

“Joyce,” he demanded loud enough to be heard over her, “tell me what he is doing.”

“I . . . I can’t.” Her voice was deeper with her building passion.

To Giles’ surprise, Ethan spoke. “You will tell him, or I will stop. And you wouldn’t want that now, would you?”

“No!” she cried out in a panic. “No, don’t stop. He’s . . . oh god . . . my breasts. God!”

The image began to grow in Giles’ mind, his cock rising hard in his slacks in response. He caressed it through the fabric, encouraging it even as he spoke again. “That’s not good enough, Joyce. What exactly is he doing?”

She moaned again. He couldn’t tell if it was from Ethan’s actions or the eroticism of the phone call, but it was a beautiful sound nonetheless. “He’s . . . kissing my breasts. Licking . . . sucking on the nipples god yes Ethan! Oh god, biting . . .”

He could envision the affectionate torture Ethan practiced on her, see her twisting against him as he nursed and nipped at the delicate coral tips.

Then suddenly she sobbed out. Desperate to know, he demanded, “What did he do?”

She could only whimper incoherently.

“I’ll tell you what I did,” Ethan’s voice, likewise rough with desire, came through over her sounds of pleasure. “I put my hand between her legs and found out just how much she’s enjoying this. Little vixen.”

Her breath came faster and faster now.

“Tell me,” Giles begged.

“She’s so wet, Ripper.” Ethan’s words were hypnotic, intent on entrancing both his lovers at once. “All warm and slippery and just begging for me to slide right into her.”

Joyce’s startled cry made Giles think that’s what had happened, but Ethan’s words continued. “I can feel her clit all swollen against my thumb, and she is so soft and juicy around my fingers, it’s all I can do not to mount her right now.”

“Oh god, please, Ethan! Please!” she begged shamelessly.

Unable to hold out any longer, Giles opened his trousers, drawing out his cock with a long stroke, holding it tight for a moment before he slowly began working it.

“Do you know why I don’t?” Ethan asked, his voice having taken a masterful tone as though he knew he had them both under his control.

“Why?” Giles knew his voice sounded more needy than he would have liked Ethan to know about.

Ethan’s next words came in a slow syllabance. “Because I want to taste the essence of her.”

Her soft scream of ecstasy covered Giles’ own desperate moan as he ground his head into the backrest of his chair, his hips shifting in sympathetic anticipation of Ethan’s talented mouth. He didn’t need their words to be able to visualize the scene now being played out so far away, the way Ethan’s arms curled beneath her and up to lock her hips in place with his hands, the way her long legs draped over his shoulders and down his lean back, the way her hair tangled across the starch white of her pillow as she thrashed under his attentions. Her sobbing, gasping cries told him all he needed to know, his grip tightening around his cock as he pulled harder and faster towards his own release.

Her moan of disappointment told Giles that Ethan had stopped short of bringing her off. “She’s sweet indeed,” he said loud enough to be heard over the phone, “but I can’t wait any longer, not even for you, Ripper.” The bed creaked, and Joyce hummed encouragingly before groaning aloud, the sound drowned out by Ethan’s own ecstatic curse.

“Do it,” Giles encouraged, his pace matching the one he imagined they shared. “Fuck her, Ethan. From both of us.”

“Don’t need your encouragement, mate.” Indeed, his voice already sounded rough and erratic, interrupted by grunts of satisfaction as he thrust into her again and again. She responded with soft pleadings and encouragements that Giles took for himself. With a startled oath, he barely had time to snatch the handkerchief out of his pocket as he came in fierce, electric spurts. He calmed just in time to hear the remains of Joyce’s orgasm and Ethan’s own roar of release.

Giles tucked the handkerchief back in his pocket before closing up his pants, all the while listening to the soft sounds of afterglow on the other end of the line. His patience was rewarded when someone picked up the handset. “So,” Joyce’s voice came, low and sultry, “was it good for you?”

He chuckled. “Good enough for now.” He could hear soft sounds and pictured the two of them spooned up together, Ethan dropping light kisses along her shoulder as his arm, wrapped around her waist, pulled her close.

“It would have been better if you had been here.”

He heard Ethan grumbling good-naturedly in the background. “I think you’ve offended him.”

“I’ll make it up to him later. I miss you.”

“Miss you, too.”

“When are you coming home again?” she asked wistfully.

He made the decision right then. “Next week. But only for a few days. Willow can stay with Agatha while I’m gone.”

He thought he heard some last bit of tension ease out of her voice. “I can’t wait.”

They were just quiet then, listening to each other breathe over the intervening distance. “Well,” he said reluctantly, “I should go.”

“It must be late for you,” she agreed unenthusiastically.

“A bit.”

“Will you still call Friday?”

Her voice sounded so hopeful, he had to agree. “The usual time. I’m looking forward to hearing all the news.”

There was another soft mumble. “Ethan says good night.”

“Good night. I love you.”

He could hear both her tears and her smile in her words. “I love you, too, Rupert. Good night.”

Giles cradled the phone slowly. It wasn’t enough. Being this far away, it could never be enough.

But it would get him through the night.


End file.
